


Won't you paint me (?)

by Coffeepills



Series: Tis the way of all flesh [4]
Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Alone messing with Hades, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Even gods have issues, Events retell, Gen, Hades-centric, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inner thoughts all over the place, Relationship Study, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeepills/pseuds/Coffeepills
Summary: This piece spans from the unnamed XVI Century host of Hades to his XVIII Century, Alone. There also mention of Hades’ XIII Century host, but he is not the point here. Although He might  later on be topic of exploration. Overall, it is less about his recollection of events and more about his mental state when the whole Alone debacle happened. Chaos ensues and it ain't pretty (mild mention/description of gore is the reason of the rating increase)
Relationships: Hades & Alone (Saint Seiya), Hades & Hypnos (Saint Seiya), Hades & Pandora (Saint Seiya), Hades & Thanatos (Saint Seiya), Hypnos & Thanatos (Saint Seiya)
Series: Tis the way of all flesh [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741276
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 4 of the "Tis the way of all flesh" series, the Series title is starting to make sense. Any way, it can be read as a stand-alone (I think?)

**Won't you paint me _(?)_**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Traces of his soul still tainted his own. Emotions, thoughts, hopes and regrets, a myriad of colours that refused to let go. It gave his soul hues of gold and silver, of black and red. Vibrancy unlike any he had ever come upon within the _Meikai_. 

At times, they struck like thunder, harshly layered one over the other. Other times, they feathered their way around the edges, soft and gentle. Barely noticeable, taking advantage of the fuzzy borders even he, in all his god quintessence, had little control over. These were, perhaps, the ones he had the most trouble guarding himself against the intrusion.

After fighting them off and building new mental walls, this mortal still found a way to bypass them. It seemed, as it was a futile endeavour on his part. The boy’s colours resonated with something deep within that he had yet to acknowledge. They blended in effortlessly, frustratingly so. Planted new seeds on the barren yet quiet expanse that was his psych prior to that kid.

 _Alone_.

He embodied the after image of a candle in the dark; the fire that it produced was naught in the sea of his cosmos, or his godly soul even. Yet it persisted, foolishly so. It took an effort Hades had never had to enact, to regain a simple semblance of control over his own self.

As he tried to erase the colours behind closed eyelids, he wondered for the millionth time if the soul of a mere human could, actually, _successfully_ attach itself to a god. Was his will _alone_ that intoxicating, or was his the one to allow it in the first place? It confused him. Made the dangerous seed of self-doubt flourish, much to his dismay.

To this day, he refused to ponder too much upon this dilemma. Alone was a mistake, an unavoidable obstacle that almost turned unsurmountable. It cost him yet another Holy War. It gave him yet another couple of century worth of unwanted dreamless sleep. Alone decimated his army of specters, he also almost shattered his _Inferno_. Above all, it gave his reeling mind respite after he started a tempest from within. This mortal managed what no one before him, to do a number on his sense of self.

It was Athena’s fault. The goddess’ reincarnation prior to this time. He had felt it, that time on the summit of her beloved Sanctuary.

She was on the verge of defeat, unable to stop his Specters from conquering house after house, all the way up to her temple. Her Saints, reckless and stubborn lot they were, laying their lives to feed his forces as his army slashed its way through.

Yet, they managed to kill some Celestial and Terrestrial Stars alike. In all honestly, they actually killed most of them, only to die at the hand of their resurrected selves. However, with or without his ability to bring back their souls and rebuild their surplices, contrary to common belief, he did not enjoy useless death.

The latter was more in line with Thanatos’s overall derisive view on mortals’ life. No doubt, the god of Death would have had his fill at wiping out her army from the very beginning but he wanted to do it his way, at his own time and on his terms. It had always been that way.

His Specters had a role of their own to fulfil, they had willingly joined his ranks. Albeit their stance on his motives and beliefs varied, they had chosen the _Meikai_ over the land of the living. Which by itself warranted they fought on the front line, killed and died for it, it was more of the same.

Pandora had objected at first. She was more alike Hypnos, in terms of strategic thinking, and more often than not complied with his machinations. He was aware. However, they had not foreseen she would perish on the front line, at the hand of yet another Pegasus reincarnation.

It was as inconvenient as baffling, since they managed to seal her off in a confusing skirmish mid-way through. One of Minos’ men relied it happened at the _House of_ _Virgo_. His army was without a general, but the path was a straight arrow. Thus for, they charged forward.

Upon recollection of the events, Hades knew it denoted the beginning of an irreversible ending, at least, for this campaign. Realization came off late though. Blinded by the influx of power and power greed, his forces circled the remnants of Athena’s forces. Self-imposing the task of finishing this war by his own hands, he ended up fooled.

Victory was within his grasp, only to elude him once again. Once she activated the seal and expanded her barrier, he was trapped in _her_ golden cage.

His vessel did not resist the trauma of his soul splitting from his flesh, Athena’s seal was too much to resist; just as the boy’s body did not offer an ounce of resistance when he took over.

The boy’s soul did not even stand a chance at the time of his inception. Pandora had done her job, the twins where several steps ahead, planning each development with ease. Yet, Athena managed to pull out a last minute turnabout, right upon his appearance on the stage of their battle. 

He had no recollection per se, of what came next.

Hypnos and Thanatos filled most of the blanks once he awoke within Alone’s body. By then it made no difference, since two hundred years had gone by. Yet he found an ounce of comfort from the knowledge alone, that they obliterated the Sanctuary and finished her off Athena’s life within the _Path of the Gods_.

However, it raised another question altogether. Whereas both their souls eventually returned to the Elysion, and he did not doubt the twins recount, when did she make her choice? How did she knew that boy would be his vessel, in this time...How did she come upon such realization and found that loop in fate, only to bend it to her advantage?

How did she manage to twist fate in such a manner? Willing herself to reborn as a simple human, outside the boundary of her Sanctuary and the safety of her temple; forcing her way so that her _brother_ was in fact the purest soul on Earth.

They said he was evil. A necessary evil for all that he cared. However, her, she was the one oozing cruelty.

All his living recipients, mortals as they were, had to fulfil one specific condition. Be the purest. In humans terms it might nowadays equal to a saint. A godlike figure among humans, the kindest among them.

It was a matter of balance. Hades reigned over the departed, his lands their final destination. He had to be bonded in a similar fashion, for the land of the living was still at the time the equivalent to the _Inferno_ to him.

At first, humans were an inferior existence to gods, born out of the deities’ self-satisfaction. Later on, some - _most_ \- deities took a liking to their creation and started to mingle with them. Some helped, guided them, others just trifled with their lot, played or loved them.

The concept was so foreign it repulsed him. Immortals, gods, were above such mixing. Still, he let go. What he could not pass on however, was what he saw once human souls arrived to his lands. He saw their sins, all of them.

Few and every passing day, scarcer to find were humans free of wrong doings. However, he noticed that these usually held the most unsettled lives. Mortals tended to overlook kindness and made the distinct choice to turn them to shreds. They seemed to find new ways to do so as years went by, then decades, then centuries.

Still, they pointed a finger at him, raised voices of outrage, started on the flames of war in rebellion against the gods. Said he was evil because he shattered that soul, unique as it was. Irreplaceable as it was. Alas, they often missed the point.

This one soul in each era, his vessels’, were untainted by humans, although their most common trait was the lack of appraisal from their own kin. That one soul was often underappreciated, desecrated even long before he realized they were the gate to the livings. Hades did not seek violence, did not pursue wickedness just because he could.

Mortals had different views on that. That was fine too. He could have cared to clarify, explained even his motives, but the enlightenment of mortals was not his goal nor his mission. The afterlife was.

Taking the aforementioned into account, what better way to save such souls from a life of torment than to give them a chance at life? As his vessel. Therefore, he gave it to them time and time again.

Until Athena jinxed him apparently.

Back to the Alone predicament then. It had taken some time to realize Alone had access to his consciousness, therefor was able to poke into his most recent memories and thoughts.

Those happening brought them back to his previous vessel. He was from Pandora’s descendants. The line had long diluted but still served its purpose. They recognized the privilege that his coming meant, aided the cause even. As it turned out, part of his sapuris hosts came from their ranks. It looked like all their joined efforts had paid off, at last.

Since he came to be under Pandora’s care since his early start on Earth in this era, the twins remained in the Elysion. They met again once his vessel matured and he took full control over him. His army was whole once again, in _Judecca_. His surplices shimmering softly as if glad to be back home. The men that pledged their lives – _anew_ \- wore them proudly, and the twins stood next to him.

As for Pandora, born as his sibling gave her renewed energy, made her feel accomplished in a way he did not fully grasp. Yet, he had little to assume on her side, for she made it known for years on end. She grew closer to him. It was strange, a temporary bound like that. It did not erase the fact that they were worlds apart.

He was a god, and she was a mortal that signed off her soul to him. Nothing had changed from this point on.

In addition, it was all for the sake of easing her duties towards him. To ensure his vessel lived, or better day survived, the dark times of that era. After the last war, they were more careful with the location of the gate to the Underworld. Last time they were caught in an era of religious turmoil, something about the conquest of a sacred land and whatnot. It turned out both advantageous and disastrous, as humans were more conflict oriented at the time.

Although Athena managed to out power his side, it did little to protect humans afterwards, as a plague soon rose and caused an influx of souls arriving at the gates of the _Meikai_. He remembered Hypnos so intrigued by such event that it warranted a visit from the twins to the _Hall of Judgment_ , to check on _that_ book, the one used to chronicle human lives so that the Judges could enact their ruling on the newly arrived souls’ fate.

Thanatos was not particularly thrilled by the trip, he preferred violent deaths, but he still posed a wondering remark, saying it was simple payback on humanity for, once again, rebelling in the face of their gods.

“One guaranteed issue though, is that once the _Griffon_ is back it will take some time before everything is running at its prime.” Glancing at the empty halls, Hypnos raised a blond eyebrow in his brother’s direction, to which Thanatos simulated a half-unapologetic shrug.

Since the sapuris had come into existence, they left most of the _Inferno_ management into the Specters hands. It had been so for a dozen centuries now, and Hades knew they were not quite inclined into meddling with it. They much rather looked forward to ways of defeating Athena and whichever adversary came standing against the Meikai and their king.

Thing was Athena had a way to meddle with that too.

At one point, deep within the confines of the Earth a tower was used to seal his _Evil Stars_. Distance meant little to Hades and the twin gods; however, the seal was strong and lasted a while to weaken and finally lift off. Short story, it was one of the reasons they carefully crafted a location that could act as an advancement station on the surface.

The place that was home to the Heinstein family was selected. Upon hearing the decision, Pandora promptly willed herself to re-incarnate.

.

.

.

The touch of his brush felt, as a feather would, non-invasive. It upheld no danger to guard himself against, which in turn allowed Alone to roam free within the memories of his previous vessel’s life on Earth.

He was born within Pandora’s family, shared a bond of flesh and blood. They shared a life before war finally broke through. It was not a perfect one; mortals rarely had one as their existence was flawed on the basis of principle alone. However, attaching his soul early on, upon conception of his vessel brought the advantage of growing up alongside his general. Soon enough, she noticed the fact several Specters souls were reborn in close distance.

From the backseat of his vessel consciousness, Hades had looked after them; known them as individuals and not just soldiers. If his sapuris were ever capable of sentience, they would have purred in approval.

He had attempted to mingle with some of them, it was new and it turned out to be such a rush. It was foreign and familiar once again. Hades wondered then, if his views on humankind were beginning to change. It was a dangerous and sloppy terrain.

Nevertheless, it was short lived and it ended swiftly. _Brutally_.

He recalled the pain, one he had experienced before in previous lives upon the Earth. Except this time, it felt as ripping a band-aid off (or the equivalent at the time), except it was his very soul ripped apart from the boy.

Each nerve in that body singed off, he felt the muscles and tendons torn, bones crushed. Yet his soul refused to let go. He attempted an attack on Athena only to be sealed. The twins later apologized, as the vessel was too weak after his departure, and ended up killed along the rest of Athena’s Saints. It pretty much signed the end of that Holy War.

It also helped him realize the scope of the meaning to his existence within mortals, as much as it caused him to experience pain at the sight of his Specters lying dead on the steps of the Sanctuary. Their shells, magnificent fearsome sapuris they were only moments before, laid shattered, opaque, their glimmer gone and drenched in blood.

The souls under the watch of his Evil Stars were gone, once again. Their memories lost, yet again. He descended then, confident their effort and sacrifice would be enough this time around. It was not, and it was for nought.

With him gone, sealed, the surplices turned to ash, following suit. The remnant proof of their existence carried by the wind of time. Their souls would return next, as blank slates in the following era.

He felt the feeling re-enacted, unprompted by his will.

Athena lured him in.

Concentrated on sealing his soul and ripping it out of his vessel.

It caused him pain, his vessel did not survive, and neither did its soul.

He felt the touch of _his_ brush.

That was Athena’s cruelty at large. Unlike her Saint’s souls, or even his Specters, which reincarnated as a blank slate. Unlike her vessel, that was a human shell to her goddess soul. His vessel on earth carried the purest soul of their time. It was unreplaceable. It did not reincarnate. It lived and died, and cosmic dust was the result afterwards.

It was a cruel thing to do, but was the price to pay upon closing his entry to the world of the living.

 _Anguish_ poured out under the paint, blending into the colourful layering on the canvas.

Hades could feel himself smiling sadly, lips just barely upturned. Salty liquid hit the flesh of his cheeks then. Or was it Alone’s? It all blended in a whirlpool he felt as his own and yet it was not…

.

.

.

_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by the song "Color me alive" by Nostalghia. You can check the lyrics here: https://genius.com/Nostalghia-color-me-alive-lyrics.
> 
> Some facts I took pleasure playing with include:  
> (*) Why the House of Virgo? Well, in the XVIII Century Holy War, Asmita fabricated the sealing rosary (will fix the name for that). In the present -classic SS- Holy War, Shaka awokens arayashiki, then leads Athena through the Inferno and up to Judecca. If we go backwards, it would make sense that the XVI Century Saint of Virgo played a part in Hades’ defeat whilst the Specters were on their way towards Athena's temple (Pegasus is an added bonus because there was no mention of him when they were at the top of the hill). 
> 
> (*) Why the unamed XIII Century host? I would like to try something with Koh-i-noor Krest too, at some point, but that might take another while to happen. Even if it is short and only mentioned in passing. 
> 
> (*) On a different note, the XIII Century religious turmoil is a reference to the Crusades and some other religious driven conflicts at the time. As for the plague mentioned afterwards, yes, it is the Black Pest. It warranted the mention, I guess. 
> 
> (*) Finally, Hades refers to vessel's bodies as an _"it"_ , it is not a writing mistake. He just does not see them as more than a mean to an end, a tool, an object. So yeah, "it" fits the bill. Well, at least, up to then...you will see :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think it will warrant an explanation from Alone's POV in the future. Meanwhile, enjoy! Rating increased for mention of ... flesh and blood in a crude way (mild gore if you will).

**Part II** _  
_

.

.

.

If one put thought into it, the irony of taking over a human vessel to destroy humankind was unmissable, to say the least. Taking a stand against them was not his duty but his choice. Even though a self-imposed one.

The specifics were lost to time; it mattered little if he chose to bring war on men, upon Athena, or on both for siding with each other and make a stand against him in return. What did matter was the sole fact that the doors to the land of the living closed on him, and the loophole to bypass that specific hindrance was the equivalent of a soul transfer.

Well, that was the gist of it. Sooner than later, Hades and the twin gods figured it did not apply the same way to all cases.

The personifications of Death and Sleep were able to override flesh on its barely conceived stage, mould it to take after their features as if their mortal counterparts were barely adulterated reflections of their godly beings. If they so wanted, they managed to take over any body available within close distance, albeit the life span of the vessel declined quickly afterwards. Therefore, they mostly stick to the first, most suitable, option.

To Hades it resembled the way a puppeteer would carve a look like wooden puppet and then infuse it with his soul. Simple recipients. Once they found the closest fit souls, it meant theses would never see light.

To this day, he seldom wondered the fate of the unfortunate souls that never emerged; they had not sinned, since they were not allowed the time to. Death and eternal sleep ensured they never would.

“ _Morphia_.” It was the key to their formula. “They can never awake, Hades-sama. We allow them to leave to infuse life in the new bodies. That is all the extent of the flow of time they actually experience.” Unsurprisingly Hypnos explained it simply, as if did not require to reign Thanatos’ powers in a timely manner and the construction of a special block in _Morphia_ , dedicated to meet this one purpose. Their combined powers made it so.

Idly, he wondered if such powers were put to _good_ use that way, only to inwardly shake the thought away. They were gods, what was a simple soul or two worth against that notion, that fact alone?

Most importantly, his case was another altogether. His first tries proved disastrous and left the acid taste of ashes on his tongue and the metallic taste of blood deep down his throat. The unfortunate soul of the body he attempted hijacking burnt out upon contact with his own. The flesh, torn and burnt, gave out as if shredded from the inside out.

Has he been unused to blood and bones, he would have felt bad, _sick_ even. For what was left of that body looked like it had bloated, much alike a balloon would, flesh and skin stretched to the point of _bursting_.

The soul caught in fire was not _just_ an imagery. It had flared in an angry _hiss_ …any blood left, not splattered on the ground and just about any other surface, had half vaporised in the air leaving a strange crimson murky cloud where the body used to stand. _Disgusting._

It repulsed him. Both the sight it left and the fact his soul had tasted rejection. The brunt burnt was difficult to deal with. The latter, however, he kept to himself.

A _feathery_ sensation invaded him anew. It sparked the burning memories of his soul, branded by the hijacked soul turned to cinder.

It was _his_ brush, coating his memories in reds and yellows of fire. It hurt, as if he relived it along the passing of paint across the surface of cloth that was the canvas.

The feathery sensation left him at last. A respite, he quickly retook his breathing under control.

“Hades-sama are you feeling alright?” Hypnos was perched in close proximity; his height allowed him to swipe his golden eyes over him in a single glance, although he was half way through a kneeling motion.

At times, it was unnerving; it made flashes of aged gold and cold grey, and muddied black, filter the corner of his sight. He pushed them at the deepest corner of his mind. Hypnos was _not_ an enemy. Thanatos was _not_ an enemy. The feathers adorning their helmets were made of metal, they served to other purpose than to protect _not hurt_.

“Yes.” His azure eyes locked with his golden ones, unwavering now. “Another failure though.” The question following his reply left unsaid.

At this point Hypnos theorized it either had something to do with his overwhelming cosmos, or his status as ruler of the Underworld. Reluctantly he too pondered the latter. The _Meikai_ , a word he had crafted on barren land, rearranged and perfected over millennia upon his arrival to fit new needs as they came. In return, similarly to species that adapted to a new environment, his godly self-grew accustomed to the dead _over_ the living.

It brought the question that it was, perhaps, an unconscious effort on his part to avoid damage to his body, for it would most likely not be able to sustain itself amidst the living. Saying it came to mind, as an epiphany would be an understatement.

It was strange, if not excruciating. He still came and went to the Elysion at his leisure, used the _Path of the Gods_ , and -in general- blended space and time at his whim. It made no sense that he could not be out there on Earth. Yet the facts remained, he could not take over a random body.

Thanatos took a more direct approach on the issue, going as far as laying the blame on Athena, _and higher up_. He did not pronounce a name out of courteous respect. The latter Hades knew was scarce yet truthful. Thanatos had this nasty brattish side but knew not to speak against higher - _Olympian_ \- gods lightly. 

“Wicked as they are, they must have doubled efforts to negate you entry.” His tirade ended on an accusing manner, he promised a long due payback on mortals, _bugs_ that they were. His words dully noted.

Nevertheless, it sounded within reason, could be true even.

His own kin turning their back on him. _Could it be?_ It would not be a _first_ …A shiver ran up his spine, his skin blanched the slightest bit as a residual tremor made itself apparent at the tip of his fingers. He distantly heard more than saw Hypnos delivering a scatting glare to his twin, his hand closing upon his shaky fingers.

“It was not our intention to cause you unrest, Hades-sama.” Not only Thanatos’s words were apological, so was his whole demeanour. Hypnos, still standing by his side, sagged his shoulders the slightest bit, short of a sigh. 

_Distress_ barely contained, he forced it to the recess of his mind, much alike paint dripping from a canvas with the swipe of a cloth. He had to. It never benefited him to linger back to _that_ void-like darkness, where he was stuck for eons. Slick with-…with all kind of half-digested flesh and bones of-… ‘ _Stop! Just stop.’_

“You did not.” It was clear then, he had to deliver this _Holy War_ from a human body. Fate had it so that only one _specific_ soul could sustain the proper shell of flesh and bones to his.

Ultimately, Hades was fine with not having just any _random_ mortal body. His skin sometime tingled at that phantom sensation of his soul inhabiting a human shell. Mingling with humans, at all, was bound to be unsatisfactory or so he thought, but it was better than the alternative. His immortal body would be preserved within the Elysion, and the twins would do the same for extra precaution whilst on Earth.

.

.

.

He was the one _holding_ the paintbrush now. Yet another creature alight with vivid colours half painted across the canvas. Its carcass laid just steps ahead. Unmoving, _dead_.

His eyes, his hands, they captured colours and life alike. Killed. _Destroyed_.

Broken pieces of a greater scheme, pawns on the chessboard of the gods.

Nobody truly wondered about the pure soul that burned so brightly its cosmic dust glistened before his eyes. They alighted the murky darkness that came at the forefront of his mind. Flooding memories, unwanted, forbidden ones, they ran like a river. 

Over the centuries, he had watched several dozen of his vessels’ soul turn to golden dust by now. At one point, he even wondered if _Nike_ had something to do with, at all. That twist of fate became an infuriating pattern he had yet to break. Worst still, it seemed as if Athena had picked on it as well.

She tried time again to switch the outcome of their Holy Wars. The alignment of the stars of the Zodiac were her favoured method to date. However, it was much of a trial and error at that point. Last time, both of their forces ended decimated.

She had somewhat managed to salvage two of her Saints. The twins had been careless instead of thorough. Her seal erased his advantage at the top steps of the Sanctuary. Forced to face eminent defeat, she turned the tables on them at the last minute.

It cost Hades yet another Holy War. It cost Athena yet another mortal body. It cost humans yet another pure soul. The one and only of that era.

Yet _no one_ but Hades took notice.

The twins protected his godly soul. They cared little for his vessel’ soul so it just turned to cosmic dust. Unnoticed, unremarkable, forgettable to any other but him.

“Hades-sama, the time has come.” Hypnos announced steps away from his throne. His next vessel would soon be born.

“Where does it hail from, this time?” He asked since Pandora was nowhere in sight.

“It appears fate had it for Pandora’s brethren to host you once again, Hades-sama.” At this point, he did not know any longer whereas Pandora was genuinely overjoyed or terrified by the prospect. If it kept on, her line on Earth would end. Was he taking too much of her or, as Thanatos would often enjoy pointing out, was he giving too much… the question remained unmarked.

“You are too kind Hades-sama giving her the chance to reborn ahead of you, to allow yourself to be placed under her _protection_.” Hypnos’ lips thinned at the blatant jealousy and barely restrained disapproval threading his brother’s words. He admonished him with a hard glare whilst Hades stopped the incoming rebut from Thanatos with a fickle of his wrist, pale fingers upheld in a placating manner.

“It matters little, she gave me off her soul, it only makes sense I respond in kind, even if for a short while.” Even he, ruler of the Underworld could concede some sort of compensation. It did little to stop Thanatos bristle under his breath. If he were to label this demeanour, as of late the god of Death seemed a bit sulky, clingy even.

Only some time ago, Hypnos had announced they would have to depart soon. The souls of their vessels were close to start their cycle anew and needed release, just for the nick of time required so that they could infuse the spark of life into their bodies. Then, they would kill them again by taking off the souls and sending them back to _Morphia_. Thanatos shared the details of the process once, in not small amount of graphic detail, complaining it took all his patience not to whip them off, just as he would any other human. His twin huffed, short of rolling his eyes. It sounded so simple, so clean and effortless.

 _He looked pitiful, as if a boy denied his handmade toy…_ Wait. No. He closed his eyes, the faded memory of golden glitter surged at the forefront of his mind.

Hypnos remained silent, most likely assessing his next move. Ready to enact their plan. Another trial and error on their part, it seemed. “This time.” A pause and Hypnos eyes were stuck on him, expectant.

Much alike his brother, the god of Sleep seemed a bit off, as if something was busying his mind and refused to let go. He often felt his gaze on him, assertive for a moment, unsure the next. Was it really that way? Or just a flicker of his imagination…

 _He looked unsure, as if a boy faltering under the pressure of adulthood…_ Damn it. Not again. _‘Stop, just stop this nonsense!’_

“Never mind. Be sure to place the anchor and pull it when the time is reap.” He wanted to say something else, but remained silent. Words lodged in his throat. The last time, at the top of the hill at the Sanctuary, the twins had not taken it lightly the harm befalling his soul. Both had been enraged enough to appear in the flesh, killing all of Athena’s forces.

Although his soul did no longer inhabit the boy’s body, the metallic taste of blood surging through his mouth and the sensation of the mortal’s body shutting down at their combined power caught up to his soul. They knew naught of these _phantom memories_ , as he referred to such impressions.

Afterward, they wondered why he avoided letting them linger at the battlefront. Sometimes he did too. Once in a while, Thanatos tried to bring it up, Hypnos in a likewise albeit more discreetly fashion did the same. He had yet to give them a satisfying answer.

Not that he ought to supply them with one. It was that he failed to have one for himself in the first place.

The paint switched to a gloomier shade, texture heavier, it became harder to control the layering over the canvas. The strokes once sleek were now hesitant, latching on his current train of thought.

It puzzled them, as much as it did him. This time though, a selfish impulse fluttered within his core. It reminded him of the arising of the sapuris. A familiar yet unknown thought deep within the recess of his mind. _Where there is trust, there is distrust_ …

Perhaps that is why he chose to keep quiet about it, for it was a thought of his own, private and selfish in nature. A _vulnerable_ one on top of that _._

“Yes Hades-sama, we will custody the painting as planned. Also, Pandora along us will meet you once awoken.” He paused as to gather his thoughts, his golden eyes squinting as if assessing an unnamed issue. “Thanatos is tracing that women’s soul, to ensure crossing paths accordingly.”

“It will take a few years for your vessels to mature enough whilst your souls remains dormant.” He paused again, before voicing his command. “Cerberus will be trusted to ensure no lasting damage comes on both your ways.” As if called upon, the three-headed beast appeared and switched to an innocent looking pup. It seemed he had mastered the trick at last.

“Thank you for ever caring Hades-sama, Thanatos would be jealous.” A nod and the slight quirk of his lips. Cerberus now took his place alongside the twins. 

“It is alright; once again management of the _Meikai_ will fall on both your shoulders.” Perhaps that was the part he looked forward the least. What was the point of it all? Leaving these lands behind. Strangely enough, Alone brought an answer to that.

It was by no means a definite answer. Yet, it turned into a colourful one. His. _His_. _Theirs_.

The answer was to be painted in golds and silvers, in blacks and reds. Up, _high into the clouds_.

 _It_ mirrored both happiness and sorrow now. Filled to the brim with wishes and overflown by regrets.

 _It_ spanned from love to hate, and a plethora of sentiments and thoughts caught in between.

Most importantly, it gave Hades a glimpse of what victory looked like and the ultimate cost that it carried along. It gave him _an idea_.

The brush stopped. Eyes that were his own, yet _not his own_ , looked at the painting right ahead.

Death as salvation. _Salvation thought death._

If Athena had made it, so could he. It was time for trial and _success_.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The titbit _“…the doors to the land of the living closed on him”_ indirectly references Part I of the Series, but I avoided major describing here in an effort to avoid making it an “obligation” to read it previously. The point was to reinforce the idea of Hades not having direct access to Earth, as a plausible explanation to the underworks to his whole vessel hijacking deal (beyond the "I want the purest soul to myself" ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯).
> 
> There are some parts with the semblance of dialog or thought, like this one _‘Stop! Just stop.’_ , that might be confusing and ambiguous in terms of who they belong to & when they are thought on. It is on purpose. This piece in the series explores Hades’ sense of self while he fights Alone’ soul over the control of his body. The brush/painting imagery relates to Alone although it is not always to be asummed he is the one _‘painting'_ , literally and figuratively speaking. 
> 
> Their row is –IMO- what makes SS:TLC so rich in terms of character development, because although it is cause of most of the twins and Pandora’s actions (and concerns), nobody else is quite aware that something is _"off"_ with the Hades of their era. So, basically, it brings us to the whole mess that takes place in his mind and soul, which includes memories of his previous lives. Either way, my portrayal of Hades is pretty much like the sum of cumulated denial and repressed thoughts, anxiousness he does not even acknowledge its existence and is cause of changes on his way to see and assess things. Which includes how he relates to and perceives other people (the twins and Pandora mostly). 
> 
> Finally, mention of _'Nike'_ is because she appears alongside Athena, and might be the reason behind her last minute victories (I'm thinking Domino in Deadpool as I write this LoL). Too bad SS never really explored that topic. Anyway, comment if you have any question or anything :)


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